“Mommy?”
I turn my attention back to the tiny human. “Yes, baby.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Okay, let’s go get you some food.” I climb out of bed and pull on a pair of sweatpants and slide my feet into my house slippers. “Shh, your brother and sister are still sleeping,” I whisper as we walk back into the hallway and trek downstairs.
Making breakfast on the weekend is something Trent and I trade off. He’ll often make breakfast for the family, but today doesn’t seem like a day he’s going to be doing that.
I grab all the ingredients for pancakes, which are my specialty. Over the course of preparing breakfast, Jessica and Charlie both make their way down the stairs and into the living room to wait for their food.
When Trent finally joins me, he’s stiff and distant. Though he clears his throat and puts a hand on my waist while kissing my forehead, his body is tense.
Without a single word he pours himself a cup of coffee and walks into the living room to squeals of excitement that daddy is awake and downstairs. He always gets the grand welcome, the red carpet rolled out.
I, on the other hand, get the begging, pleading, needing. No excitement when I’m around, no excitement seeing me first thing in the morning.
Except sometimes from Charlie when he needs some mama snuggles and will call for me instead of just shuffling into my room or downstairs. That’s happening less and less nowadays.
The times when my kids need me are fewer and further between. My husband is at the very least sexually frustrated with me, and I have nothing to show for my days than a stack of papers. What part of this life is supposed to perfect, as so many like to claim my life is?
Chapter 12
Thereunionistwoweeks away. No part of me is more excited about going, but now I’ve started panicking about what to wear.
I haven’t bought myself new clothes in ages, and I don’t think a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt—my day-to-day outfit—is going to cut it.
Becca insists we go shopping. And I’m not really one who can deny her easily. Besides, new clothes might be nice for a change. Even if it is for something I’m not really that excited about going to. Maybe I can even pick up a few new pairs of yoga pants.
“What does one wear to a reunion? I don’t want to be overdressed but I don’t want to be underdressed either. I feel like it has to be just right, it has to be—”
“Perfect?” She raises an eyebrow as she smiles in my direction.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “You know what I mean. This isn’t to make people continue to think I’m this perfect person. It’s because I want to look appropriate.”
“What does the invitation say?”
“Business casual. But I don’t even know what that means today.”
“You could probably get away with a sundress, a skirt and blouse, dress pants and a blouse, even jeans and a nice top.” She runs her hand back and forth as she speaks like she’s giving me a laundry list instead of just a few options.
“I’m not sure jeans are nice enough. I guess maybe a dress would do? Something on the simple side.”
“Well, you’re in luck because it’s prom season and now is when all their dresses start to come out.”
“Wouldn’t a prom dress be too fancy?” She must be crazy if she thinks I’d even fit into something like that.
“They just tend to take all the dressy clothes out now. It’s almost summer, they get everything out now.” While I know the season and how retail rotates, Becca feels the need to explain it to me like I’m a child.
“Let’s just go see if we find anything. I’ll try on a few different styles, I guess.” Defeat pulls my shoulders down. I used to love shopping. Now I find it a chore. It’s partially because I hate how my body looks in just about everything, and partially because I have no reason to wear even semi-nice clothes.
Though we have a babysitter, or two, and Becca is always more than willing to watch the kids, Trent and I rarely go on dates. It’s just one of those things that we don’t prioritize as we should. Or maybe it’s that I don’t prioritize it because he’s always asking me if I want to get a sitter.
I’m just too tired to stay up late, or to even want to go out on a date. It’s not that I don’t want time with him. At least I don’t think…sometimes it’s hard to know.
Once we find the dress section we split up. Becca knows my size and style and I trust her to possibly find something for me that I can’t.
As I glance through the racks, my nose crinkling in distaste. I’m feeling as though I’m not going to find a damn thing to wear. Nothing is saying it’s worth my time to even try on, let alone possibly wear to the reunion.
